


Problems

by Decaykid



Series: Butterfly Baby [2]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 3
Genre: F/M, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Jealousy, Mild Language, Secret Crush, Teen Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-03
Updated: 2016-08-03
Packaged: 2018-07-29 01:46:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7665547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Decaykid/pseuds/Decaykid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Problems, problems, problems all day long<br/>Will my problems work out right or wrong?<br/>My baby don't like anything I do<br/>My teacher seems to feel the same way too</p>
<p>Problems, problems, problems<br/>They're all on account of me lovin' you like I do<br/>Problems, problems, problems<br/>They won't be solved until I'm sure of you<br/>You can solve my problems with a love that's true</p>
            </blockquote>





	Problems

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Everly Brothers - Problems

"What the hell is all this?"

Butch wakes with a start, groans as his back protests the sudden movement as he sits back in the chair. He's got to stop falling sleep at the table. He blinks tiredly, runs a hand over his face.

"What?" He asks.

"What have I told you 'bout cleaning up behind youself? This ain't no pig pen."

"Sorry Ma, fell asleep." He says, then stretches.

"Yeah, I'll show you sorry." She replies as she takes a seat opposite him and sets her coffee down.

"What's all this?" She asks as she motions to his journal and papers scattered about the table.

"Homework."

She quirks an eyebrow, takes the top paper that's closest to him just before he can reach for it.  
She does a once over of the half sketched girl before turning around and notes the blank spaces of unanswered questions.

"This homework?"

"Yeah." He answers sheepishly and drops his gaze to the tabletop.

"Dammit Butch! We talked 'bout this!"

"I know Ma."

"Why didn't you do it?"

He shrugs.

"I dunno."

"That ain't an answer."

"It's borin'."

"No shit, that's why it's called homework, not homefun. You're just lazy. What do you plan to do? Mooch of me the rest of your life, huh? What about when I'm old and you gotta take care of me? Huh? Who's gonna baby you then?"

"I don't get it."

"You don't... you don't get it? What's not to get," she skims the title of the paper, "about biology Butch?"

"I dunno, Mr. Brotch doesn't explain it good."

"Oh, pardon me then. Is that what you'll tell your wife and kids, when you can't provide for them because you're the janitor of the damned vault because you couldn't pass the G.O.A.T., because Mr. Brotch didn't explain biology good? Is that what you'll tell to their starving lil' faces?"

He sighs, begins gathering up his papers and slotting them between random pages in his journal.

"Hmph." She says, as she hands his undone homework back to him.

"Who is that girl anyways? Looks like James's girl."

"What? No! She's just some... girl I saw in a magazine." He says, hastily stuffing the paper away from sight as he tries to will himself not to blush.

"Well maybe if you drew her with her tits out Mr. Brotch would give you a 'C' for once."

"Maaaa!" He groans, unable to keep the color from his face.

"Clean up these wrappers, then go wash up."

He eagerly stands from his chair, throws away the empty box of Dandy Apples and water bottle.  
Twenty minutes later he's showered, dressed, greased up, and ready for the day.

"Kay Ma I'm leavin'."

"Wait, don't you want anything?"

"Nah, I'll grab somethin' at the cafeteria."

"Class don't start for another hour and a half."

"Gonna meet up with friends, Ma."

"You're not hooking up with that Kendall girl again, are ya?"

"I'm just gonna hang out with the boys."

"I'm just sayin', that girl's been around."

He grabs his journal, makes a beeline to the door.

"I'm serious Butchie, if I even hear of you two being back together again, I'm dragging you to see James and to get tested for diseases."

"Oh my god Ma, I'm going now, bye."

He's out the door and down the hall before she can get another word in.

~*~

"Butch..." Officer Kendall greets in distatse as he opens the door.

"Yo, is Chrissy ready?"

The older man exhales slowly through his nose.

"Christine, Butch is here."

The door shuts, is opened again a moment later.

"You're five minutes late."

"Yeah, sorry kitten, I overslept again."

"Mmm." She replies shortly.  
She closes the door behind her, runs one last careful hand through her hair, then saddles up close when he places his arm around her shoulders.

"Were you up late again?"

"Yeah, Ma's been on my case 'bout my grades again."

Christine sighs. "Parents. Always up our asses about everything. Sometimes I think they had us just so they can have someone to push around."

"Yeah," Butch says, suddenly reminded of the fading bruise over his temple that he received last weekend, "so was your Old Man complainin' again?"

"Like always."

"'Bout what?"

"The usual. He doesn't like my friends, or my make-up, or my boyfriend."

Butch smiles as he wraps his arms around Christine and pulls her in close.

"If I were your daddy, I'd be worried 'bout me too."

He leans in and kisses her, drags his fingers along her scalp, licks into her mouth and leaves Christine a little breathless as her fingers curl into the leather of his jacket.

"Butch," she giggles, then playfully swats his chest ," you naughty boy."

"You want naughty? I'll show you naughty." He says lowly in her ear as he hands slide down her back to rest on the curve of her ass and he gives her a playful squeeze while his teeth graze her neck.

"Oh!" She gasps.

"Are you two gonna want more then tongue for breakfast, or should we leave you two lovebirds here?" Wally asks as he and Susie join the pair at the threshold between the hall and the cafeteria.

"Don't mind him," Susie says, "he's just jealous."

"Am not." Wally argues indignantly, which only earns him an elbow to the ribs from his sister.

Butch laughs and Wally's frown deepens, but the conversation is dropped and together the small group walk to their table.

"Can't believe we have another day of class. Is it the weekend yet?" Wally groans as he takes his seat.  
Christine laughs.

"It's only Tuesday."

"Anybody feel like skippin' out?"

"Wally," Susie scolds, "Dad's gonna have your hyde if you miss anymore classes."

"So? It beats sittin' 'round for Mr. Brotch's Snorefest all day."

Susie snorts and rolls her eyes.

"Please, as if you have anything else to do with your time."

"Susie," Butch says, pointing a finger at her, "Wally here is a very busy man. It takes a lot of time and dilligence drawin' all those dicks in the text books ya know."

"Ha ha. Very cute." Wally says, sulking as the others chuckle.

A few minutes later, Freddie and Paul join the group. Paul takes a seat with friendly greeting while Freddie goes to fetch everyone's food.

"Do you ever think we're too hard on him?" Susie asks idley as she twirls a lock of hair around her forefinger.

"Who? Fred?" Wally snorts, "Nah. He don't mind."

"How can you be sure?"

Wally rolls his eyes at his sister. 

"He likes bein' our little errand boy. Gives him purpose. Right Butchie-Boy?"

Butch, whose unflinching gaze bores not into Freddie, but the girl he's talking to, makes no response as he pushes his chair back and stands.

"Butch? Where are you going?" Christine asks in confusion.

"Gonna help Freddie." He replies, without so much as a wayward glance in her direction.

He shoves his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket, approaches the pair as nonchalantly as possible, then casually slots himself between them, effectively cutting off their conversation. Before either one of them can speak, he glances over his shoulder and says to Freddie, "aren't you supposed to be doing something?"

If Freddie is upset by the turn of events, he makes no show of it as he continues on towards the serving line.

"Whaddya think you're doin'?" Butch asks, and it isn't aggressive, but she gets on the defensive anyways.

"Well, I was talking to Freddie until you so rudely butted in."

"You can't talk to Freddie; you can't talk to us Snakes."

"I didn't realize I wasn't allowed to talk to whomever I wanted."

"Well now you know, we don't want nothin' to do with you- you're a dweeb, a square, a nosebleed."

"Great. I don't want anything to do with you either." She says matter of factly.

He sneers like he's just cornered her, yet it's different then his usual 'I gotchya' expression; his eyes seem alight with something giddy almost instead of malicious intent.

"Yet you don't walk away from this conversation."

She looks at him, considers walking away, considers why she doesn't.

"No," she says, "that'd be rude."

Butch says nothing and she says nothing in turn. So they stand there, looking at each other with baited breath, though for two very different reasons. The Future Lone Wanderer thinks of the times she plays Chinese Checkers with Grandma Palmer; she doesn't know the rules, the purpose of the pieces, or the object of the game, and that's how she feels in this situation. She feels it means something if she speaks, says something if she doesn't. She thinks it signifies something if she stays, confirms something if she goes. But she isn't sure what it is these things say, confirm or deny. Deciding the not-speaking and staying combination isn't offering her results she desires, she opts for the other options.

"Don't choke on your pancakes Butch." She says as she turns and leave, and she's mentally kicking herself as the words tumble from her lips. She's not sure if it's genuine or a threat or nonsense just to get her out, or some odd combination of the three, but she doesn't dare chance a glance back as she hastily returns to her seat, more from mortified embarassment then an attempt at sticking to her decision.

Butch snickers as she walks away.

"Whatever Nosebleed."

~*~

Butch sits in the back of the class, ignoring Mr. Brotch as he drones on about independent and dependent clauses. He should be sulking, he and Christine had a fight when he returned to the table after his little exchange with the Doc's kid, but he just doesn't have it in him to care. How can he, when he's too busy watching, notices the way _her_ brows furrow and _her_ nose crinkles as _she_ reads the notes of the chalkboard to jolt them down.

"Mr. DeLoria?" Mr. Brotch says for the second time, "the answer?"

Realizing the teacher is addressing him, he says responds with, "2077" and suddenly everyone's turning around to look at him, and her gaze meets his before he's quickly tearing his eyes away to look disinterestedly at Mr. Brotch.

It's become a running gag, to Butch anyways, to answer any question with the year the bombs dropped, despite the question and topic they're studying. Mr. Brotch finds it equally unamusing each time.

"Mr. DeLoria, perhaps you wouldn't have trouble with your _wandering eyes_ if you sat a little closer to the board, hmm?"

Butch levels a hard glare at the older man in an attempt to counteract the heat he feels rushing to his face.

"Maybe you're just a shit teacher." He spits the words like venom and he knows he's taking this too personal, is being too defensive over it, but he hates being caught so off guard, hates that Mr. Brotch makes something out of nothing.

He ends up spending his lunch with Mr. Brotch in the classroom, serving detention and Christine is even more pissed off at him than she was before. By the time lunch is over, Butch has decided the Doc's kid needs to pay, and he spends the remainder of class figuring out how.

Once the bell to end class rings, Butch hangs back just long enough to see the future Lone Wanderer walk up to Mr. Brotch's desk and strike up a conversation with him over the earlier notes. Knowing he'd raise suspicion hanging around in the classroom for her, he steps into the hall and waits just outside the doorway.

"Yo man, whaddya doin'?" Wally asks in agitation, he's eager to get out and cause some mischief after being couped up in the classroom all day.

"Just wait." Butch replies with a smirk on his face as he peers into the classroom.

"C'mon Butchie-Boy, hasn't she gotten you into enough trouble?"

"Exactly." Butch says, pressing his back flat against the wall. Having never been a light walker, her heavy footfalls are easy to keep track of, Butch waits until she's just a few steps away before he slides his foot in the entrance. The moment he feels contact he turns, and the tripping Lone Wanderer gets a faceful of his chest.

"Hey, watch where you're goin'." He says, and though his shove his hard, his words sound more playful than angry- not that she notices with the sound of blood rushing through her ears.

"I-I I didn't- I mean, I I-I c-couldn't..."

"Butch DeLoria!"

As Christine storms down the hallway, the future Lone Wanderer's eye grow large and she quickly darts away with her head ducked down, making her getaway as quickly possible.

"What?" Butch asks as he turns around, trying his best to look as innocent as possible while the gang snickers around him.

"Here. Now."

"Ohhhh, someone's in trouble." Wally teases.

"Can it, asshole." Butch says with a pout and Wally gives him a shit eating grin.

"Hope you like it in the doghouse!" Wally calls after Butch as he jogs to meets Christine.

"What'd I do?" Butch asks defensively.

Christine peers around his shoulder to see the gang obviously trying to eavesdrop.

"Not here." With that, she turns on heal and Butch follows suit with his hands in his pockets.

Christine leads them to a table in a back corner of the cafeteria; the place is still relatively empty, save for a few students and elderly people who can't work for the vault.

"What was all that about?" Christine asks before either one is fully seated.

"What was all what 'bout?"

"Don't play dumb with me Butch, you know exactly what I'm talking about!"

Butch sighs, runs a hand through his hair before returning it to his pocket and shrugs.

"I dunno. I was just pickin' on her."

"Why Butch?"

"What? Whaddya mean why?"

" _Why_ Butch?"

"Since when do you care why I pick on certain people? What are ya, her keeper or somethin' ?"

"I'm not asking again Butch DeLoria."

He flinches at the use of his full name, shrinks back into his seat.

"After that stunt in class-"

"Stunt? You mean where Mr. Brotch caught you _watching her_ instead of paying attention?"

"Y-yeah." Butch stammers, and his voice sounds as confident as he feels.

"I'm sorry Butch, but I fail to see how you being unable to keep your eyes to yourself is her fault in any way."

"Whaddya sayin' ?" Butch hisses, slamming his fist on the table. Though Christine is unimpressed by his outburst, it draws attention from a few others, including that of the Doc's kid, however it's nothing more than a passing glance above the top of her book before she continues her reading. All it takes it that small glance, and Butch is no longer invested in the conversation, instead watching her.

"-so anyways what I'm saying is it isn't just me who thinks this, Butch... Butch are you even listening?"

Christine doesn't have to turn around to know who he's looking at. She just simply slides her chair over until she's in his line of sight. Butch blinks, and realizing he's been caught, his face flushes red before he drops his gaze to the tabletop, unable to look at Christine.

Several long minutes of tense silence pass between the two before Christine speaks up again.

"Butch," she says, voice calmer now, somber even. He continues to keep his gaze down.

"We need to talk."

"Ain't that what we've been doin'."

"No, well yeah. But, I mean a serious talk, Butch."

"Didn't realize everythin' up until now was just for shits 'n giggles."

There's something in the way she sighs that gives Butch an idea of what comes next.

"Butch. It's over."

It still feels like a punch to the gut.

"What?" He asks, eyes finally meeting hers. He looks hurt and confused, and Christine almost wishes he'd go back to looking at the table, but she's not about to cave now.

"I just... I can't do it anymore Butch. I can't keep falling to the wayside as you try to figure out whatever kind of feelings you may or may not have for some other girl."

"What? I don't- I don't have _feelings_ for her!"

"You obvious feel _something_ for her Butch! I'm not saying you have some undying love for her, but you clearly don't feel _nothing_ for her!"

"I've already told you, she-"

"I know Butch. She bugs you. She bugs you in a way that no other boy or girl in this vault bugs you."

He sheepishly looks away again and Christine draws her arms up around herself.

"Maybe it's just a silly crush, or she's like your forbidden fruit or you just wanna hook up with her or something.... whatever it is, if it turns out to not be that serious, I'll be there for you at the end, okay?"

Her voice wavers and her nails dig into the fabric of her vault suit, she's made it this far, she can't cry now.

"Look, you're a nice guy, Butch. And I really like you. But I deserve better than this. You deserve better than this, even-", she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, then slowly releases it, "if you make her happy, then she deserves that. But I can't... I can't help you through this. I can't just sit here and watch, in case it does turn out to be something more. I deserve a chance at finding my own happiness too."

She bites down on her bottom lip, then stands from her chair and moves to sit beside him. She places her hand on his shoulder.  
"I know I've done a lot of yelling these past few weeks, but I'm not mad at you Butch. Not anymore. This is just... something we have to deal with, if we ever want to move on in our relationship."

She pauses.

"I love you Butch DeLoria."

She leans in, places a kiss on his cheek and then she's gone, disappearing down the hall way before he can talk her out of this.

He feels strange.

He's upset, but not in the way he thinks he should be. There's no anger, no sadness. Just a sense of freedom that has him frozen with terror.

Slowly his eyes go to her.

Maybe he just needs time. The shock will wear off and he'll realize what just happened, and everything will set in.

He watches her.

Seconds roll to minutes. He continues to feel still and calm. He decides it isn't numbness he feels, but it isn't quite peace either. It's more like that feeling of holding your breath as you wait for the other shoe to drop.

He can't take his eyes off her.

Why can't he take his eyes off her?

"Hey there Butchie-Boy." The scrape of chairs across the metal floor disrupts his thoughts as the boys take their seats around the table.

"Where's Chrissy?" Wally asks, acting nonchalant as he removes a box of toothpicks and shakes one into his hand. It's his way trying to make Butch feel like none of this is a big deal. It helps, sometimes.

"Gone."

"Yeah? Where to?" Wally asks, placing one end of the toothpick into his mouth and returning the box to its hiding place.

"Stormed off."

"What happened?" Butch watches as Wally swpies invisible crumbs off the tabletop.

"She dumped me."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Wally hesitates before placing his hand on Butch's shoulder.

"Don't worry 'bout it Butch. She don't realize what she's missin'."

Wally gives his shoulder a squeeze, then pulls his hand away.

Butch notes Susie's absence, wonders if she's gone to track Christine down to get the inside scoop. As for the gang, they seem to have mistaken his sullenness for sadness, instead of a burdened mind. Not that he matters much, they keep their conversation to themsevles, allowing Butch to not participate which lets him continue watching her.

He's starting to get frustrated. He feels stuck, like he's doing an algebra problem and he has no idea what the next step is. He's watching her like she's got the answers. And doesn't she? She is the nerdy brainiac after all. He inwardly sighs. It's not as if he's going to walk up to her and ask if she knows why he feels compelled to pick on her more than all the others; he doesn't even ask her for the answers in class, there's no way he's going to ask her that. Besides, she probably wonders that herself.

He thinks back to an hour ago, when he'd tripped her and she landed into his chest, thinks of the way she stammered, the way her cheeks turned bright red. He thinks of the way his heart jumped in that brief moment of contact. Thinks of the way her nose crinkled as she tried to read the notes off the board, how she didn't walk away from the conversation that morning.  
He drops his gaze, suddenly unable to look at her anymore. He stands from his chair, he doesn't want to be in the same room as her anymore.

"Where you goin' Butch?"

"Home. Got homework to finish."

He doesn't wait for their reply, nearly trips on the leg of a chair in his haste to get out of the cafeteria. Each step he takes is a little quicker than the last and he's jogging down the hall but he can't get to his quarters quick enough.

He stops only once he's in the privacy of the apartment. He leans against the door and catches his breath before going to the dinning area. Once there, he takes a seat and flips to his journal until he finds the piece of homework that's now a day late. He pulls it out, flips it over, and begins shading in the girl's face.

Is it possible? Could Christine be right? Could he really have a thing for Nosebleed? Could he even _like_ her?

Could she even like him?

The immediate answer is no.

Not just because he picks on her, but because he's too stupid for her. She's a straight A student, and most of time he's struggling only to fail each course and bomb every test. And she's too soft and gentle. A goody-two shoes. He's all hard angles and rough edges. He's rowdy and angry. Angry. She's mostly calm and collected, even when confronted or harassed. He feels too strongly, reacts with emotions, she uses logic, because she's smart and he's dumb right? And she's the Doc's kid. She's brilliant. She has a bright future. She's going to be someone, could even save lives like her old man. As for himself? He's just Ellen DeLoria's son. Some man's bastard son. A juvenile delinquent, a trouble maker, a nobody. Trouble waiting to happen, a disaster ready to self implode and take out everyone with him.

So no, she would never like him.

Except...

Except that up until the age of ten, she'd always make him 'get well soon' cards after he'd been to the clinic for cuts and bruises that everyone knew were given to him by his mother, even if he never said. And that one time when they were fourteen and she stood up to Wally cause he punched Butch in the face, even though Butch had called her ugly earlier that day. Sometimes she'll stick up for him in class if Mr. Brotch is being a real pain in the ass to him. And on occasion, she'll greet him in the hall or rarer yet, smile, even if it earns her a 'eat dirt Nosebleed'.

He sets his pencil down and observes his sketch.

Maybe, just maybe, it wouldn't be a complete waste of his time to follow Christine's advice. After all, there's only one way to find out...


End file.
